Brothers
by Hello Sunshine
Summary: Ron Weasley knew, without a doubt, that he loved his brothers. Honest... Most times anyways...


I've been feeling the family love bug lately…Dunno why. This one was more fun to write then the Petunia/Lily one. Ah how I love the Weasley children….(But I do not own them). Enjoy!

Ron Weasley knew, without a doubt, that he loved his brothers. Honest. He really and truly did. Sometimes however….

Bill, for example, was far too much of a Coddler. He wasn't 3 anymore, for Merlin's sake. He was 17; an age where he could legally, do pretty much anything he wanted. He didn't need Bill to watch him over his shoulder all the time, making sure he didn't colour outside of the lines. He could colour inside the lines just fine, damnit.

Bill hmmed from over his shoulder and Ron turned and gave his oldest brother the deadliest glance he could muster.

"Getting a little sloppy there Ron, is your hand tired? Do you need a break?" Ron grit his teeth and turned his back on his tall, rebellious (and overly concerned) brother. He scribbled furiously for a few seconds without saying anything.

"'M fine" Charlie snorted from his spot by the kitchen sink. Ah. And then there was Charlie. The coddler who never was. Ron supposed that Charlie was enough like their mother to have made an amazing coddler, and perhaps he could have taken that coveted title away from Bill. Unfortunately, while Charlie had received his mother's no nonsense attitude and famous temper, he had not received any maternal instincts. And so Charlie was really just the Bully. Oh sure, if you caught him a good time, he was probably the easiest brother to talk to. However if you dared to interrupt flying time or dragon time or alone time...

"Bugger off Ron, none of us are pleased with this job, get over yourself and stop being sloppy." Charlie said crossly, his back to Ron, busy scrubbing a multitude of pots and pans; their mother's pink frilly apron tied tightly around his waist. Percy, who was watching the whole scene from his spot beside Charlie, in another pink apron, snorted and rolled his eyes whilst picking up another dish to dry.

"You lot don't even know what you're doing, you shouldn't pick on Ronald for his sloppy work when you are all producing the same results" Ah. Percy. Lovely Percy; the only brother who still called him 'Ronald' in normal conversations (if only just to appear more intelligent). Percy, who had inherited neither his mother's coddling nor the famous Weasley temper (although it had made several appearances at varying times) had unfortunately inherited the no nonsense attitude. See, with Charlie, it wasn't so bad, because he had the nasty temper to even out the no nonsense part of his brain for a while. Percy had no such luck. And so, Percy had dutifully become the Stick-in-the-mud. And was he ever good at it. Too good almost. Ron almost pitied his future children. Almost, mind; he had dealt enough with Prefect Percy growing up that he felt that it was high time someone else took the brunt of the attack.

"Bugger off Percival and go find some cauldrons to measure." Fred said, sitting across from him. Fred was perhaps, one of the easier going Weasley's. While he had inherited the famous temper to match the famous red hair, he had somehow also adopted a sarcastic sense of humour that he used to mock anyone who made him mad. Ron really had no idea where that had come from. His mum was not funny in the least, although they did laugh at her jokes, if only to make sure they were not hit over the head. And his dad…Well, Arthur Weasley was a nice man, but no one ever said he was particularly witty. Ron supposed it came from his late uncles, Gideon and Fabian. Apparently they were big jokesters. Fred therefore, was the Sharp-tongued. Not only could he pull a prank that would make you want to shoot him and his twin into oblivion, his sharp tongue gave a severe lashing if you weren't careful. Ron had decided early on to avoid that side of Fred all he possibly could.

"Aw, is Ickle Ronniekins tired? Perhaps he should be the one scraping bits of food of plates then." George was both the youngest of the twins (by 5 minutes) and the easier going. George was, easily, the easiest going Weasley, and Ron supposed that was where Fred got most of it. However, while George may have been relaxed, he was also the more ruthless. Fred planned pranks, but he generally did not come up with many of the ideas. George spun them and Fred helped make them reality. George, had, by default, become the Sharp-minded. In order to compliment Fred's own wit, George had become someone that tiny baby Ron Weasley knew well enough to stay away from. Many other's had not been so lucky. Ron laughed at them. As long as it wasn't his butt on their line, Ron could handle just about anything that the twins put out there (minus George's bright idea to transfigure tiny Ron's teddy into a spider when he was 5).

Unfortunately, Charlie the Bully and Bill the Coddler had heard George's comment.

"George Weasley, Ron is doing a perfectly fine job at colouring the poster, you mind your own business and concentrate on scraping those dishes"

"Why do you always have to be such a coddler, Bill, bloody hell, give it up already, you are not a woman!" Charlie glowered at his older brother and Bill turned an interesting shade of red and glared right back.

"Shut your bloody mouth Charlie, at least I'm not wearing Mum's apron!" Percy spun around, apparently taking much offense to this comment as he was also wearing a matching apron.

"I'll have you know that Charlie and I are doing most of the work Bill, and if you would keep a more watchful eye on the twins, then perhaps we would already be finished!" George and Fred who had been trying to surreptitiously sneak out the side door straightened and glared at their elders.

"OI! Watch what you're saying there Percival-"

"Since we have been doing an excellent job-"

"And Bill is the one walking around like-"

"He has got dainty, feminine hands too fragile to work!"

"Watch your mouths you two! I have been working! I've been keeping you all in line!" Bill growled at his younger siblings, reminding them of the changes he had incurred after being attacked by Greyback. Not enough to make him fully werewolf, but sometimes…

"Oh what a load of crap that is" Charlie snorted, fists clenching. "If what you're doing is work then we might as well say that Percy's cauldron thickness dissertation was the most brilliant thing we've ever seen." Percy squawked and everyone started yelling at the same time, angry voices riding over each others until they were mostly unrecognizable.

And Ron suddenly felt very left out.

Here were his brothers, whom he had attempted to avoid this kind of situation with for as long as he could, and they weren't even including him in it. Well. He couldn't have that, now could he? And his fist closed around the closest cup to him and he launched it into the air, in order to catch everyone's attention. And he did. Just not the way he expected to.

Blue paint flew into the air and splattered across all the occupants of the kitchen. Each brother had gone silent and was staring at Ron, blue freckles decorating their skin, hair and clothes (and in Percy's case, glasses). Ron blinked at the murderous looks and became reminded why they called him the Dumb-one. Perhaps Completely-Oblivious was more the case. He really hadn't meant to…

"Er…Just wanted to say that…you see….You were getting a touch too…er….loud…" Before Ron could even blink, Charlie had dove his hand into the sudsy water and was lanching handfuls of soapy dishwater at anyone he could reach. Fred and George had begun grabbing bits of food they had scraped from the plates and throwing them around the kitchen with renewed vigour. Percy had his dishtowel at hand and was mercilessly whipping Bill who was using the rubbish lid as a shield, roaring with laughter and trying to beat Percy off with a wooden spoon in the middle of the kitchen. And Ron was grabbing every paint bucket within reach and making sure they splattered all over his brothers, all of them willingly jumping into the fray.

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!" And everyone froze. The kitchen was a disaster. There was different colour paint splatters covering the floor, ceiling and walls. Food bits were wedged in every nook and cranny and the floor was deathly slippery with suds and dirty water.

Bill- the Coddler- had blue and red freckles and a large yellow splat in his hair that ran down his shirt and dribbled onto his pants. His arms bore the obvious whipping marks from Percy's towel and he had a handful of suds stuck to the crown of his head, some sort of unrecognizable piece of food clinging to his cheek. He still bore his wooden spoon and rubbish lid, although the lid showed signs of being used to ward off the air born missiles.

Charlie- the Bully- was just about completely red…face, hair, clothes, skin…He had a cucumber slice on each cheek and more rotting vegetables on his shirt front. He too bore obvious whipping and spooning marks, and his fists were soaking wet, the red paint mixing with the water and creating a drippy red mess on the kitchen floor.

Percy- the Stick-in the-Mud- was sporting a giant red spoon welt on his left cheek and a generous yellow swipe on his right. One of his lenses was blocked out by black paint and he had butter and broccoli bits mushed into his hair along with the sudsy water. His pants were completely soaking and clinging to his skinny legs like there was no tomorrow.

Fred- the Sharp-tongued- was covered head to toe in the most obscene amount of gravy and sudsy water. Green paint mingled with the dark gravy and made him look rather moudly. His arms were sporting large, red spoon and towel marks and he was leaning heavily against George, holding his ribs in mock agony.

George- the Sharp-minded- was covered in flour, the green paint making him look like a rotting ghost. Splashes of many other colours completely covered his arms and torso and he had one knee on the floor and the other trying to push himself up under Fred's dead weight. Dirty dish water was mixing with the flour over various body parts and making it look like glue.

Ron- the Dumb-one- was standing in the middle of the fray, nearly completely untouched. His fists bore the guilty evidence of his paint throwing and he had small bits of gravy, flour and food bits stuck in his hair and clothes. His right cheek bore a maroon coloured spoon shaped bruise and his right arm had a few towel whips. His chest was the only place that was particularly wet and the suds dripped slowly onto the floor.

And Molly Weasley- the Mother-one- was standing at the kitchen entrance, hands on hips and her face the most interesting maroon shade, shaking silently with the utmost fury. You see, Molly Weasley had not only the coddler, the bully, the stick-in the-mud, the sharp tongue and mind and the dumb-one (only not so much the same way as Ron was dumb- Ron preferred to think his mother was more naïve then dumb really)- she also had the mother in her. And that meant that the Weasley brothers were in big trouble. With a capital B and T.

Ginny, Harry, Hermione and Mr. Weasley were peering wide eyed around Mrs. Weasley, careful to maintain an easy distance of 3 feet (that was how far away you had to be so that she couldn't grab you without some warning beforehand). Ginny smirked, Harry shook his head with a soft smile, Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval (Ron was certain that Hermione would make a bloody good Mother-One one day) and Arthur Weasley simply looked confused.

"What happened in here?" The poor, oblivious man asked (Ron supposed that he had come by his dumbness honestly at least). Molly spun around with such venom that everyone behind her scurried away quickly (minus Arthur who was not quite quick enough to catch on).

"I WILL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED ARTHUR WEASLEY!! YOUR SONS HAVE DESTROYED OUR KITCHEN ACTING LIKE- LIKE—TODDLERS!!!!" Arthur blinked at his fire breathing wife (Charlie had once said he had never met a dragon nearly as ferocious as their mother- Ron had believed him). Of course, the boys knew that while they couldn't get off the hook for this one, they could at least place the blame on someone else.

"Oi, now Mum, it wasn't really my fault-" Bill started

"Mum, honestly, calm down, you see it was all-" Charlie reasoned

"Mother, I think that it is obvious that I did not begin this mess, it was actually-" Percy explained

"Mum, we would never- well yes we would- but this time we swear it was-" Fred and George chorused

"It was Ron Mum!" And they all turned an accusatory (and not at all apologetic) glare at their youngest brother. Ron, for his defense, had the decency to huff and glare right back at his brothers after a moment of shock. Molly Weasley turned to her youngest son and stared at him intensely. Ron stared back for about .03 seconds before staring at the floor guiltily. It had technically been him who had started this mess, but he was definitely not looking forward to the punishment that was waiting to be given….

"Do not think I am easily fooled. Ron is the youngest and smallest (technically a lie, he Bill and Percy had all inherited the tall, skinny gene while Charlie, Fred and George had inherited the stocky, slightly shorter gene- therefore Ron was really not the smallest anymore) and would not ever take on his older brothers all at once. Isn't that right Ronnie?" And he nodded his head, still looking at the floor (if only to hide the smirk that had worked its way on his face).

"I know it was the rest of you. Shame on you trying to get your baby brother in trouble! Ron, go and clean yourself up and then why don't you and Harry and Ginny and Hermione go play some Quidditch outside? The rest of you lot will stay in here until this kitchen is SPOTLESS and not a moment sooner. And that poster will have to be redone, since you have ruined Ron's good efforts at making Moody a birthday poster. Once the kitchen is cleaned you can get started on that. And I want it to be LOVELY. Is that understood?" There was a series of grumblings and Molly rolled her eyes before stalking away from the kitchen. Ron raised his head, grinned at his furious brothers and gave an exaggerated wave, whistling as he sauntered out of the kitchen.

Ron Weasley knew, without a doubt, that he loved his brothers. Honest. He really and truly did. Sometimes they were down right gits. But sometimes….Well being the youngest did pay off eventually.


End file.
